


By New Year's Night

by eerian_sadow



Series: PJ Winterfics [2]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Confessions of love, Friends to Lovers, M/M, mech smoochies, mentions of damage, non-graphic physical injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9096430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: The Combaticons have captured Prowl. Jazz has been authorized for an extraction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, wow! This fic has been 5 years in the making! It was supposed to have been written just so very long ago and then posted on New Year's Eve. Now that it's finished, though, I don't have the heart to make everyone wait a few more days for it. I hope you enjoy!

Jazz stormed into the Special Operations planning room in a whirl of barely contained fury. He was still angry at himself for allowing Prowl to be taken, and now Punch’s report had doubled that anger.

Vortex had Prowl.

“Jazz, what have you found out?” Mirage’s calm voice was exactly what he needed to focus his anger on what they needed to do.

“He's in Combaticon HQ. Vortex has him.” The visored mech didn't gentle his delivery. He wanted his team as upset as he was.

An angry Ops team was a deadly Ops team.

“Frag.” Bumblebee’s curse didn't have quite the venom of Jazz’s own tirade after receiving Punch’s report. “Are we authorized for an extraction?”

“I'd like to see Prime try and stop us if we weren't.”

The three of them let it go unsaid that Prowl could have stopped them as they turned their focus to planning the tactician’s rescue.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“All right, mechs. You know what to do.” Jazz looked from Mirage and Bumblebee to the Aerialbots gathered behind them. “You ain’t gotta win this fight, you just gotta buy enough to get me and Raj in and out.”

“And then carry all of you back to base.” Silverbolt looked nervous, but also determined. “We can do this.”

“If it gets dicey, call for backup. Hot Spot and the Protectobots are on standby.”

“It’s not gonna get dicey,” Air Raid told the saboteur. “We’re gonna kick their asses from here to Cybertron.”

“Don’t be stupid. They won’t hesitate to call for backup, and if it’s one of the other combiners, you know that you can’t handle two on your own.” Jazz gave the younger mech a firm glare. “You call your brothers if you need them.”

“We will.” Silverbolt pinned his brother with a matching glare before nodding to Jazz. “We’ll draw them out. You get ready to go in.”

“All right.” The saboteur turned to the rest of his ops team. “Let’s go get Prowl.”

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Onslaught!” Superion’s voice thundered across the canyon were the Combaticons had tucked their headquarters. “I know that you are in there! Come out and fight!”

Jazz shook his head as Bumblebee hacked through the lock on the side door. Punch’s intelligence said this was the closest entrance to Prowl, but if Superion didn’t get Air Raid’s anger under control, they wouldn’t have time to get to him before the Combaticons caught on.

“Silverbolt had a plan, Jazz,” Mirage assured him softly. “We’ll get him out.”

“Yeah, but will he still be alive?”

Bumblebee looked away from the lock for a moment. “We’re going to get him out, Ratchet will fix whatever Vortex did to him and it’s going to be okay.”

“Yeah? Keep telling me that, Bee.” The lock beeped and the door slid open. Jazz used the opportunity to step forward and beckon Mirage in after him. “If we’re not back in ten minutes, blow the door, get the kids and get home. Raj and I will meet you back at base.”

“Fifteen,” the minibot replied automatically. “And Skyfire will be waiting for you somewhere in the city.”

“Fifteen,” Mirage agreed, shoving Jazz further into the hall before the saboteur could argue.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Whatever Superion had taunted the Combaticons with had worked exactly the way Silverbolt had planned. The could hear Bruticus outside, screaming at the Autobot combiner as they traded blows heavy enough to vibrate the walls.

Jazz hoped it would continue to be enough if a distraction as he and Mirage crept down the hall. Rather than let himself worry over the Decepticon combiner, he opened a comm line. _“Raj, put up your cloak and scout ahead a little. Punch said there weren't any guard drones, but it's been two days since he dropped those supplies.”_

 _”Of course.”_ The noble shimmered out of sight a moment later. _”Have you come up with a backup plan if they've moved him?”_

 _”We’ll worry about that if the intel is wrong.”_ The saboteur did his best to keep his rage out of his voice. _”But I can promise that Vortex ain't gonna like it.”_

_”I don't doubt that. The corridor is clear, aside from a cleaning drone. It seems to be mopping up coolant.”_

Jazz sighed softly, letting a small amount of relief flow through him. Coolant on the floor was a good sign; Prowl hadn't broken yet and Vortex was getting creative without trying to kill him. Yet. 

_”Take out the drone, just in case. I don't want them getting a clue til we're on our way out.”_

Mirage’s reply was a blip of static that signaled affirmative. Then a moment later, there was the soft clatter of a body being eased to the floor. _You're clear, Jazz. I'm just going to tuck the drone away in another room while you retrieve Prowl.”_

 _”Don't get dead._ The visored mech slid carefully into the hall containing Prowl’s cell. It looked like any other corridor in the base, and if Punch hadn’t managed to get them a copy of the schematics, he would have assumed the tactician was being held somewhere else.

But, he could see the half-cleaned puddle of coolant leaking out from under the door to the interrogation room and that meant prisoners.

Right now, there was only one he was worried about. Any others were likely to be disloyal Decepticons, and Jazz didn't have the time to break them out to cause havoc or defect.

Quickly, he made his way to the door panel and opened the access hatch for the lock. He plugged a data cable from his wrist into a diagnostic port and uploaded a virus to disengage the lock. It wasn't as tidy as Bee’s hacking outside, but it was faster.

Just as the entire system shut down, Bruticus bellowed again. Jazz forced the door open with a squeal of metal that was buried in the shout of an angry combiner.

His vents stalled when he saw Prowl hanging on the wall, arms draped over a pair of hooks like some kind of macabre wall decoration and outer armor stripped away to reveal bare protoform and wiring. Even the Praxian’s sensory wings were gone, bringing Jazz’s carefully banked rage roaring back.

The saboteur would deal with Vortex later--painfully and permanently. Right now, Prowl was his only mission objective. 

_”Raj, get that thermal wrap out of your subspace and get in here. Prowl's in a real bad way.”_

There was a noticeable pause before the noble replied. _”On my way.”_

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

Jazz fretted in a corner of the medbay while Ratchet worked on Prowl. He wanted to pace or get close enough to hold Prowl’s hand, but either action would get him thrown out.

And he _needed_ to be there when the Praxian finally woke up. 

Finally after long hours, Ratchet stood up straight and stretched his arms. “I've done what I can for now. Wheeljack and I will have to fabricate a lot of parts, though. Vortex stripped out most of his sensory network, on top of the armor and base plating.”

“If I can get a message to one of the deep cover agents, I'll have them look for his parts.” Jazz walked quickly to Prowl's side. “What's working right now?”

“I've got his optic and audio suites back up, and I think he’ll have feeling in his hands and arms. Anything below mid-chest is still non-functional.” The medic sighed. “That fragger knew what he was doing a little too well. Even with the right parts, Prowl will have trouble walking and with spatial awareness without his wings.”

“You and Jack will get him fixed.” The saboteur gave the other mech a weak smile. “You mind if I sit with him til he wakes up?”

“No, go ahead. Just don't uncover him. His thermal self-regulation can't be recalibrated until his sensors are back online.”

“Sure thing.” Jazz smiled again and reached for the stool the medic kept tucked under the monitors. He slipped his hand into Prowl’s as he sat, then settled in to wait.

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Prowl came back slowly enough that Jazz snapped out of sleep mode quickly enough to watch. The Praxian’s optics flickered twice before lighting up and the fingers clasped gently in the saboteur’s hand twitched against his grasp. After several seconds of staring at the ceiling, Prowl turned his head slowly, optics meeting visor with confusion.

“Jazz? Is it really you?” The tactician’s vocalizer was scratchy with damage from overuse, and Jazz wasn’t sure he’s ever heard a sweeter sound. 

“Yeah, mech. It’s really me. We got Optimus to approve an extraction.” Jazz squeezed Prowl’s hand gently. “How you feeling?”

“I am…” The praxian stopped and cycled his vents. “How do I know that you aren’t just a hallucination?”

“You don’t, I guess, but it’s flattering to know that you’d hallucinate about me.” The saboteur smoothed the blanket over the tactician’s shoulder, where Prowl’s subtle movements had dislodged it slightly. “What I can I to help you believe you’re really safe at home?”

“Tell me about the Christmas party.” The request sounded almost like a question.

“We didn’t have it.” Jazz gave him a soft smile. “Even little Daniel said we couldn’t open presents without you here. The presents are all still under the tree and the only thing we did was let Swoop put the topper on the tree when he said it looked naked.”

Prowl relaxed as the visored mech spoke, and Jazz relaxed with him. “Does it look like Ratchet?”

“No. I thought it might, too, but he made a big white star with medic’s crosses in the middle. It’s surprisingly tasteful.” The saboteur grinned, both at the relief of Powl being awake and amusement with Swoop’s creation. “Wheeljack wants to keep it on top of his storage cabinet after we take down the tree.”

“He should take a creator’s pride in the things his offspring make.” The corners of Prowl’s lips twitched upward briefly. “And in answer to your question, I am _feeling_ and therefore much better than I was when I was Vortex’s captive.”

“Yeah.” The reminder of Prowl’s extensive damage ruined Jazz’s improving mood. “He fragged you up pretty good, mech.”

“I know.” The Praxian sighed softly. “Can Ratchet repair the damage?”

“He says yes, but it’s gonna take time and parts.”

“Then I will be all right. Don’t be upset or feel like you failed me. You rescued me, when other mechs, myself included, would have likely written me off.”

“Yeah, well. You know us ops mechs.” Jazz lifted Prowl’s hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. “Ain’t one of us leaving a mech behind. Specially not one I care about so much.”

“Jazz…”

“Hey, don’t worry about it now, Prowl. Just get some more real rest and we’ll talk about it later.”

Jazz could tell the fatigue dragging at the other mech was the only reason that Prowl let the statement go, but he wasn’t worried about it. He’d had a lot of time to think about what he wanted to say while he was waiting for the Praxian to wake up.

 

“Fine. Then tell me how long I was gone, and how you managed to successfully extract me.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

“Careful of his feet!” Jazz looked away from the sound table--and Steeljaw and Ramhorn--at the sound of Fireflight’s voice. A moment later, he saw the smallest of the Aerialbots guiding a pair of silver feet through the rec room door, followed by Prowl being carried in a sling formed by Air Raid and Slingshot’s arms. “Okay, we’re in! Jazz said he had the couch all cleaned off and ready for you, Prowl, so let’s head over there now.”

The saboteur smiled at the young mechs as they carried the tactician to the large, plush couch that Prowl would have normally avoided like the cybonic plague. He was crossing the room as they settled the Praxian onto the soft blanket the saboteur had draped over the cushions hours ago and reached the other black and white mech’s side as Fireflight was tucking the thermal sheet Ratchet was keeping Prowl covered with around the older mech’s shoulders.

“Hey there, mechs. You look ready for a party.” The visored mech grinned. “Glad you felt up to coming down for our little Christmas on New Year’s shindig, Prowl.”

“I do not know how long I will feel up to staying, but I didn’t want to miss your hard work.” Prowl gave him a soft smile. “The Christmas Party always makes everyone smile.”

“Sideswipe did a lot of the work this year,” Jazz told him. “I think I may just have to recruit him to a formal position. Assistant morale officer or something.”

“Only if he has proven he can handle the details when you’re not around.”

“Don’t worry, he has.” The saboteur sat down on the arm of the couch, close enough that Prowl could lean against him if he chose. “I’m so glad you’re here to see all of it this year.”

“As am I.” Hound started up the cabin hologram as Prowl shifted just enough to lean his head on Jazz’s side. “I thought of this when things were at their worst. The party, and my family. The mechs I love, however improbably.”

“Yeah?” Jazz bent down and kissed the top of the Praxian’s head. “I only thought of one mech I loved while I was getting you out, but he was pretty motivating.”

“Is that what you wouldn’t tell me in the medbay when I woke up?”

“Uh.” Jazz chuckled softly when he realized he had actually said that out loud. “Yeah. Didn’t want you to have any more to deal with than you already did.”

“You’re an idiot, Jazz.” Slingshot, forgotten along with his brothers, smacked the saboteur in the shoulder. “Always tell people you love them. They might not be here tomorrow.”

“Believe me, it ain’t a mistake I’ll be making again.” The saboteur leaned further down and softly kissed the corner of the tactician’s mouth. “Love you, Prowl.”

“I love you, too, Jazz.” Prowl snuggled more comfortably against Jazz’s side as warmth spread through the shorter mech at his words. “I believe I will enjoy this more once I have more of my sensory network back.”

“I promise to cuddle all you want after that, anytime, anyplace.” The visored mech felt his spark hum with something that was almost contentment. Prowl was home and safe, Vortex was probably still in the Decepticons’ medbay after the beating Superion had given him and Optimus was stepping into the room and going around giving holiday greetings. It was a close to perfect as anything could get during the war. “And as much as you want between now and then, too.”

“Aww, you’re so cute!” Fireflight grinned at them. 

 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

 

They were well into opening presents, with a pile nearly as tall as he was on the floor in front of Prowl, when Jazz received the comm.

 _”Jazz,”_ Red Alert’s tone was deadly serious, which made the saboteur look away from the growing pile of affection in front of the tactician and focus completely on the security director. _”There is a Decepticon at the door asking to speak with you. He claims he is one of your agents, and his code checks out.”_

 _”Huh. He got here faster than I thought. Be there in a minute. Cycle the codes to the Careless Whisper set while you’re waiting, will you?”_ Jazz bent down and nuzzled affectionately against Prowl’s head. “Gotta go outside for a minute. Red says someone suspicious is at the door.”

“Be careful, Jazz. I’m in no shape to lead a daring extraction if you get yourself captured.” Prowl gave him enough of a smile to let the saboteur know he was teasing. 

The visored mech smiled back, more than happy to have a reminder of the affection the Praxian had given him so effortlessly before the party started. “Nah, it’s probably nothing. You remember the time with the UPS truck.”

“Everyone remembers the time with the UPS truck,” Gears grumbled, preventing whatever reply Prowl might have made.

“Too true, mech!” Jazz chuckled and slid off his perch on the arm of the couch. “Back in a bit. No need to wait, Prime.”

“Of course, Jazz.” Optimus nodded and handed a small package to Daniel, who rushed to Carly’s side with an excited squeal. They had gotten used to the saboteur ducking out of gatherings and celebrations for Autobot business vorns ago. “Call if you require my presence.”

“I will.” The visored mech gave his leader a sloppy salute, bent over to kiss Prowl one more time--something he wasn’t ever going to get tired of--and made his way to the door. 

Once he was out of the common room and out of immediate eye or optic view, his quick walk broke into a sprint. Red Alert might have code checked his agent--probably Punch, who was the only one out of the lot who was bold enough to come to the _Ark_ still wearing his Decepticon colors--but he still considered the mech a threat. 

And well, if Megatron showed up, any of his double agents would play the parts he had cast them in perfectly. 

Jazz saluted the camera at the front door before stepping out into the cold night. He was right about the identity of the agent; Punch stood in front of him in full Decepticon paint and glaring at him exactly the way Counterpunch would if he were out in the cold.

“You got something for me, mech?” 

“Took you long enough to get here. What were you doing, making out with Prowl?” Punch pulled a large box out of his subspace and passed it over to his commanding officer. 

“Nah, mech. It’s Christmas on New Year’s. You know how it was.” Jazz took the box, surprised at the weight. “Primus, what’s in here?”

“The important parts.” Punch shrugged. “The rest has either been cannibalized for parts or melted down already. I got what I could, and not even your flier could get anything else.”

“We’ll take what we can get and be thankful. You’re the best, mech.” The saboteur settled the box against his hip and reached into his subspace. He pulled out a chip and handed it to Punch. “New codes, if you gotta come home again.”

Punch snorted. “One of these days, I’ll come home and debrief and you won't have to give me one of these again.”

“Can't come soon enough, my mech. Be careful over there Punch.”

“I’m always careful.” The blue mech gave him a thumbs up, then turned away without bothering to say goodbye.

It was a very Counterpunch thing to do and Jazz didn’t let it bother him. He opened a comm line to Red Alert as his agent activated his thrusters and took to the sky. _”Red, bomb scan this as I come back in, will you? I trust my agent with anybot’s life, but Vortex had these parts before him.”_

 _”Acknowledged, Jazz.”_ There was a slight pause, and Jazz knew that meant Red was firing up the bomb sniffer. _”Walk back in **slowly** so the scanner can actually do its job for once.”_

 _”Hey, I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t gonna take it seriously. I ain’t putting a bomb in Ratchet’s medbay.”_ The saboteur sauntered casually back toward the door, completely ignoring Punch and any rude gestures his Decepticon identity might be making at his back as he headed inside. _”You heading down to the party later? Cosmos made those things with the copper center that you pretend you don’t like.”_

 _”He did? I… might be less argumentative than usual when Optimus comes to relieve me, then.”_ The security chief was quiet for several seconds, likely looking over the scan data as Jazz walked through the door and into the entry hall. _”It’s clean, Jazz. You agent did good work.”_

 _”Thanks, Red. I’ll pass that along next time he checks in. See you at the party.”_ The visored mech saluted the security camera again and made his way back toward the rec room at a more leisurely pace. 

Red Alert was right; Punch did do good work.

He started humming as he walked, a jaunty Christmas tune that Carly had been playing at some point before Prowl had been captured, and lifted the top of the box up just enough to peek inside. Jazz smiled at what he saw and closed it up again.

It was going to be a toss-up over which mech was happier about this gift, Ratchet or Prowl. He couldn’t wait to give it.

“Is everything all right?” In his excitement, he hadn’t quite realized that he had walked back into the rec room and they party until Optimus called out to him.

He smiled a little sheepishly and nodded. “Yeah, just got caught up in my own thoughts. Everything is fine. My mech on the inside sends his love.”

“I hope that he is well,” the Prime replied. Then he nodded toward the box. “Is that something you need to take care of now?”

“It’s a gift, actually. From my mech to Prowl.” Jazz’s embarrassment turned to happy pride again. He settled down on the arm of the sofa again, and set the box on the tactician’s lap. “Merry Christmas, Prowl.”

Prowl peered at the box curiously. “It is far too heavy to be any sort of normal gift, Jazz.”

“I know, mech. Just open it.”

Slowly, the Praxian did as instructed. He lifted the top off the box and dropped it to the floor. Then he peered inside and froze with shock.

“Prowl?” Jazz’s excitement turned to worry. “I thought you’d be happier.”

Prowl looked slowly up at him, face still shocked and a little awed. “ _How_?”

“I didn’t ask. Only part that mattered was that my mech got the job done.”

“Thank you!” The tactician lunged toward the saboteur suddenly, arms wrapping around Jazz’s neck tightly as a box holding pair of battered and slightly singed sensory wings slid to the floor next to Fireflight.

Jazz held the other mech close and pressed a kiss to Prowl’s lips, completely ignoring Ratchet’s shouting about the Praxian’s medical condition or the cheering of a few of the others in the room.


End file.
